Time And Again

Poetry is more than words,

some is written, some is heard

 

Often long, yet sometimes short,

its power shared in bold retort

 

Questions cry, demanding verse,

with feelings new, still unrehearsed

 

Its focus like a laser aims,

at souls that search—time and again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)

The Truth Commands

Yes, I’m a Poet,

but I refuse to be conscripted

 

I refuse to be a victim,

my words made out of stone

 

I refuse to bleed my heart out,

on a page of blank simpatico

 

I refuse to give you weakness,

knowing strength you have disowned

 

Yes, I’m a Poet,

but my sword is sharp and pointed

 

My shield is scarred and colored

with the blood of firebrands

 

My breath won’t plead while shouting,

every name a future conquest

 

My pen in hand, a weapon sure

 —its ink the truth commands

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)